Congratulations Are In Order
by RainStorm4
Summary: Halt is seven feet tall and fights bears with his bare hands. He's faced armies, assassins, and worst of all, apprentices. But, now the biggest challenge still remains: how does he deal with having to be a father for the first time?
1. How Do I Put This Without Being Stabbed?

**How Do I Put This Without Being Stabbed?**

Lady Pauline was eying her husband with a certain degree of amusement. "Stop pacing, dear."

Since scowling at his wife was out of the question, Halt resorted to scowling at the floor. "What's taking so long?"

"Cranmore had to splint someone's arm, Halt." Pauline's voice was _very _dry. "I think that takes precedent over little old me."

"I say it doesn't," Halt stated, his voice just this side of being a snarl. Pauline propped her chin on her hand and smiled at him.

"That was exactly the right thing to say."

Halt turned to kiss her chastely on the cheek, mindful of who he was and where he was. They were in a little room off the main infirmary – Cranmore, the healer, was an old crony of Halt's who was well aware of the ranger's quirks, or, as he put it, 'ridiculous paranoia' – and the tiny space was making Halt edgy.

Or maybe it was just the fact that there was indisputably something wrong with his wife that was bothering him. Either way, he was in the mood to pick a fight with a bear.

The door swung open and Cranmore bustled in, wiping his hands. "So sorry, Lady Pauline. These idiot battleschool children seem to think that shields are for old people."

"Maybe because every old warrior they see invariably uses one," Pauline suggested, smiling up at him, ignoring Halt's mutter of, "It's about bloody time."

"Quite, quite. What seems to be the problem, anyhow?"

"Well, I've been feeling quite ill lately. Sick in the stomach, and I think I have a temperature."

"Let's have a look." Cranmore tested Pauline's forehead, her cheeks, and the base of her neck and throat. "Hmm… slight fever, nothing too serious. Ill, you say?"

"Yes." Pauline prepared to begin detailing her symptoms, noticing that Halt had stopped pacing and was listening with a stricken look on his face. Before she could begin, Cranmore spun around and pointed at Halt.

"What are you still doing here? Out!"

Halt's look had been known to stop rampaging Skandians in their tracks. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me! The lady is a patient, and all patients receive privacy. Wait outside."

Halt opened his mouth to argue further, but Pauline tilted her head to the side and raised a single eyebrow. The look was more powerful than any words. Halt huffed a sigh, and left the room.

Outside the door, he began pacing again, glad his hood concealed his dark features. Pauline had always been the very picture of health; the fact that there could be something wrong with her sent chills down his spine.

Overprotective? Perhaps. But Halt had seen too many things go wrong in his own life to let something like this sail past without comment. The fact was, he loved Pauline more than he loved anything. and he was prepared to admit that he was perhaps a little paranoid about her well-being.

Still, as he had told his apprentices, just because you were paranoid didn't mean there wasn't a Genovesan crossbow pointed at your neck from the window across the street.

The examination seemed to stretch forever. Halt considered on more than one occasion simply kicking the door down. He had already tried the latch, intending to sneak back into the room, but Cranmore, well versed in the ways of artful rangers, had locked the door. Halt was reduced to standing outside sulking.

Finally, the lock receded and the door opened. Cranmore stood there, beaming. The bright smile didn't even fade when Halt elbowed his way inside, looking for his wife.

She was sitting in the chair she had been in before, and she was looking very pale.

"What's the verdict?" Halt asked quickly, taking her hand. She looked up at him and smiled a tiny, shaky smile. "Are you… are you sick?"

"I'm not sick." Her voice was very quiet.

"But why have you been feeling sick?" he insisted.

"Do you want to tell him or should I?" Cranmore asked, bouncing up and down.

"Tell me, Pauline."

Pauline realised how distressed Halt was becoming, and decided to break it to him. "I'm… I'm pregnant."

"You're what?" Halt asked blankly.

"Pregnant, Halt."

"Who is?"

"I am," Pauline said, very clearly. "I – am – carrying – a – child."

"You can't be, you're not holding one," Halt said irrationally.

Wisely, Cranmore steered Halt to a chair. Halt didn't so much as sit down as he did fall down. "Bu… but… you…I…" He took a deep breath, realising he was babbling. "This isn't right, you can't be pregnant! You're too–" He slammed to a stop, realising what he was about to say. Just in time, too: Pauline's expression had been steadily growing more dangerous.

"I'm _what_, exactly?"

Halt stared at her, and realised what she was telling him. "You are," he said, in a voice shaking with sincerity, "The most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me." With a single bound, he was out of his chair, pulling Pauline to her feet, and kissing her passionately.

Cranmore coughed, and the two separated. Pauline's cheeks were slightly flushed, and Halt still had a slightly manic look in his eye. "It's true, what you were about to say," he added apologetically. "Lady Pauline is slightly past the age most women have children."

"That's not what I was about to say," Halt told her hurriedly. Luckily, Pauline was too kind to ask him what he had been about to say: Halt honestly did not know what he would answer her with if she had.

"These things do happen," Cranmore continued. "You're perhaps three months along. The extra strain on your body is why you have the fever, but that should go away in a few days. There are a few other risks: you need to be very careful what you do."

As he continued listing instructions, Halt felt his mind wandering slightly. Pauline was pregnant. She was having a child. She was having his child. He was going to be a father!

Oh gods. He was going to be a father.

Interrupting Cranmore mid flow, he turned to Pauline and spluttered wildly, "You're _pregnant_?"


	2. The Ballad of Will's Optimism

**Fairy Godparents With Lots of Pointy Weapons**

Will stretched his legs, enjoying the sunlight on his feet. Ebony, on the porch beside him, licked his toes, and he chuckled.

"Keep that tongue to yourself, thank you," he murmured, fondling her ears. Ebony whined happily, nosing his hand. It was a rare day for the young ranger: he had no reports to read, no bandits to track down, and no invading armies to fend off. He was determined to relax.

The moment he determined that, of course, was the moment Halt appeared out of the trees.

"Halt!" Will said cheerfully. The perfect addition to an already perfect day. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Do you have anything stronger?" Halt demanded, coming onto the porch.

Will's optimism quivered slightly, anticipating a blow. "Halt?" the young man asked carefully, noting deep bags under his mentor's eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Why should anything be wrong?" Halt asked waspishly, patting Ebony's head.

"Because you just turned down a cup of coffee and asked me for liquor." Will toyed with the idea of reminding Halt of the consequences of his last binge, but decided against it. From the looks of things, Halt wasn't in the mood to be reminded that he had once been deliberately banished.

"I was joking!" Halt snarled. "Can't you tell a joke?!"

He paused, and realised that Ebony and Will were both staring at him, utter amazement in their eyes. Throwing his hands in the air, he sat. "Fine. Coffee." The drink couldn't hurt, he supposed, it might even raise his spirits. They were certainly being lowered by the fact that Will was backing into the cottage in order to keep him in sight at all times, or that Ebony had sat back down and fixed her gaze on him with disturbing intensity. "I'm fine!" he told the dog sharply.

Ebony whined.

"I _am_," he insisted. "Don't you raise your eyebrows at me!"

"Halt," Will interrupted. "What's wrong?"

"As I told you already, I'm fine." Halt sipped the coffee and relaxed despite himself.

"Halt, you told my _dog_ you were fine. And you accused her of raising her eyebrows at you." Will raised his own at Halt, clearly prompting for more information. "She doesn't have eyebrows, Halt."

Halt rubbed his face. "Dear god, I'm going mad."

"Drink your coffee. It will help," Will said sympathetically.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Slowly, Halt began to unwind. Will sat there patiently, happy to let his mentor tell him what was wrong when he was ready. He expected it to be some kind of tiff with his wife. He did not expect Halt's next words.

In the same tone one used to comment on the weather, Halt told his former apprentice, "Pauline is pregnant."

Will gagged on the mouthful of coffee he had just taken, instantly certain that Halt had timed his news for that exact reaction. "Pregnant?" he wheezed.

"Mmm."

"But isn't she too–" Will hesitated, much as Halt had the day before.

"Too what, Will?" Halt had no idea how Pauline had restrained herself the day before. Watching Will squirm was priceless.

"Too… er… too… skinny. I thought she was too skinny to have children?"

"Apparently it happens sometimes."

"This is fantastic, Halt!" Will clapped him on the shoulder. "Congratulations."

Halt grunted. Will frowned.

"Um… that _is _good news, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"You don't sound terribly… convinced," Will said carefully.

"Pauline is _pregnant_, Will!"

"Ah. I see." He did. He was perhaps the only one in the world who would have. Halt was a legend. Not many people realised that he was also a man, and one with very little experience in family matters. "Don't worry about it, Halt."

"Don't worry, he says," Halt muttered bitterly. "How can I not worry?"

"You trained me and Gilan, and look how we turned out!" Will pointed out cheerfully.

Halt buried his head in his hands. "It's doomed."

"What are you going to call him?" Will asked eagerly.

"What?" Halt's head shot up.

"People generally have names, Halt. He's going to need one too." Will forebore from rolling his eyes, just this once. "What will you call him?"

Halt clearly hadn't even thought of it. "I… I don't know."

"What was your father's name?" Will persisted.

"I'm not associating my child with anyone from that sorry place," Halt said darkly.

"What about Pauline's father, then? Or maybe… Walt!" Will exploded.

"Excuse me?"

"Call him Walt! You'll be Walt and Halt."

"I am not calling my child Walt." His tone was not one that invited argument.

"How about–"

"If the words 'Salt', 'Colt' or 'Dolt' pass your lips," Halt began. Will held up his hands in mock surrender. "Pauline can name him."

"Halt, this is fantastic!" Will said enthusiastically, forgetting the name for a moment. "It really is. It'll be like having a little brother!"

Halt swallowed. "Will… I don't know if I can do this."

"You'll be fine. You're Halt! If thousands of other people can raise children, you can too." Will began whistling cheerfully. Halt still looked unconvinced.

* * *

Alyss entered the room, kissed Pauline on the cheek, and poured herself a cup of tea. Pauline, who had been looking out of the window in a speculative manner, looked up at her and smiled.

"A long day?"

"The Hibernians," Alyss said succinctly. "They're trying to say that they need funds to rebuild the country in the wake of the Outsiders. Despite the fact that it was _their _fault that the cult was there, and that _we_ were the ones who stopped them – well, Will and Halt and Horace – and the fact that we've already supplied _soldiers_…" She took a deep breath, a sip of tea, and a seat, then smiled. "I almost wished we hadn't united them. The person who said 'strength in numbers' could almost have been talking about diplomacy. How have you been?" What she was really asking was 'what did Cranmore say?' but at this point in her life, after all of her Courier training, a question so lacking in tact was anathema to her.

Pauline smiled at the girl – no, young woman, by now. There had been a minor battle of wills between husband and wife to bring Pauline to the infirmary, and Alyss had seconded Halt ably. "I'm not ill."

"That's good. Was it just some sort of stomach bug?"

Pauline laughed. "In a way. I still have it."

Alyss frowned. "But you're not ill?"

"No." Pauline rested her hand on her stomach and felt a smile spread over her face. It was a sweet, stupid, helpless smile, and she couldn't contain it if she wanted to.

Alyss' eyes widened. "Pauline! You're not!"

"I am." Impossibly, Pauline's smile grew. "You're going to be its godmother."

Alyss clapped her hands in delight. "This is perfect! Halt knows, of course?"

"Of course." Pauline laughed. "Poor man looked like he didn't know whether to cheer, run, or jump out the window."

Alyss laughed as well. "Oh, Pauline, I'm so happy for you! When is it due?"

"May, we've decided." Pauline beamed. "We haven't told anyone else. Only you and Will."

"You'll have to tell the Baron. He'll probably insist on having the biggest baby-shower this castle's ever seen."

"Maybe the king can be Patron-Sponsor again."

They both burst out laughing. The door swung open at that moment, and Halt walked in without knocking. "Hello, Alyss," he muttered distractedly.

"Hello, Halt," she replied with a smile.

Halt walked over, kissed Pauline on the cheek, and examined her cup. "Are you drinking that herbal tea Cranmore gave you?"

"Yes, dear."

"And you ate all those plants at lunch?"

"Yes, dear."

"Have you been sitting down?"

"I'm sitting down now, Halt." Pauline's voice was becoming ever so slightly edgy. Halt noticed it and stepped back, giving her some space.

"Pauline just told me, Halt. This is wonderful. What will you call him, do you know?" Alyss asked eagerly.

"I have no idea," Pauline said frankly. "I was hoping you might have some names in mind, dear."

"Don't ask me," Halt said drily. "The only interesting names I ever heard usually belonged to people I was being told to shoot."

"You could name him after the king," Alyss suggested. "That would be a nice gesture."

Pauline snorted an unladylike snort. "After all Halt has done for this kingdom? Duncan should name a child after _him._"

"Prince Halt?" Alyss asked with a grin. "I think that's already been done."

Pauline frowned suddenly. "I didn't even think about that. You're royalty."

Halt's face was just as grave. "My child will have royal blood." Even saying the words 'my child' sent a frisson of excitement down his spine.

Alyss propped her chin on her hand and thought about it. "It shouldn't matter. Halt abdicated, so I shouldn't imagine there'll be any issue with succession."

"Have the Hiberneans matched King Sean up with anyone yet?" Pauline inquired.

"There's a princess from a neighbouring kingdom who looks a likely candidate. If they do make a match…"

"They can produce their own heirs and leave my child out of it," Halt said grimly.

"So if we have any ideas about names we can come to you with them?" Alyss said brightly. Halt groaned.

"You and Will both have an obsession. I just hope you can do better than him. He actually wanted to call him Walt. Thought it would sound good with Halt."

"Well, you know, there's a certain charm to it," Alyss began. Halt levelled a finger at her warningly, and she laughed. "You know I'm joking. But then again, after seven more months, perhaps Walt will sound good."

"Seven months," Halt muttered. "I'm going to lose my mind."

"Just think how much better you'll feel when the baby actually does come, dear," Pauline murmured with malicious amusement.

Halt bit back a groan and smiled bravely.


	3. Love is a Many Sneaky Thing

**Love is a Many Sneaky Thing**

**In which Pauline and Halt try to out-sneak each other, and Will gets caught in the middle.**

It was a beautiful day. Sunlight was cascading through the window in Pauline's office and making patterns on the floor. Pauline hummed as she read through the papers on her desk, making occasional notations or suggestions, sometimes crossing entire lines out all together. It was simple work, but absorbing nonetheless, and she didn't notice her husband until he tentatively knocked on the door.

Pauline looked up, expecting Alyss, a servant, another courier; anyone but Halt. Halt never knocked. It was one of the constants of life, along with "Arald's jokes are always bad ones"; "Cranmore will never drug even the most annoying patient", and "Halt is always the most annoying patient". Right up there with them was "Halt will never knock."

"Good morning, dear," he said now, striving for an air of casualness.

"Halt," Pauline said, her good mood rapidly vanishing. "This is the third time in the last hour you've dropped by." it was actually the fourth, she simply hadn't noticed him fifteen minutes ago. "I am fine. I am perfectly alright. I am sitting down and resting, and for goodness' sake, I have five months to go!"

"I just came to see whether you'd like to eat lunch together," Halt said innocently.

Pauline's irritation died down to mild suspicion. "You don't have work to do?"

"Not in the field."

"That would be lovely, then. I'll see you at lunchtime." Her tone was heavy with meaning: she would see him at lunch time and not a moment sooner.

Halt nodded in a dignified manner and stepped out of the room. As he went, Pauline called out sweetly, "Could you shut the door behind you, dear?"

Halt stopped and glowered at her. As good as he was, not even he could slip into a room unnoticed when the door was closed and the room's occupant was facing it. "Of course, dear," he agreed, biting the words out.

Pauline smiled and went back to her work. Thirty minutes later, there was a light knock, and Will entered the room. "Good morning, Pauline."

"Good morning, Will. How can I help you?"

"Well, I was actually hoping you could show me that letter the Celtic ambassador sent out."

"The one on the new taxes?" Pauline asked, surprised.

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Of course." She couldn't imagine why he needed it, but it was a routine piece of correspondence. Accordingly, she sorted through her files, pulled it out and presented it to him.

Will took it and read it carefully, then nodded in satisfaction and passed it back to her. "thank you."

"What did you need it for?" Pauline was desperately curious.

Will shrugged vaguely. "Perhaps nothing. Perhaps it will help. We'll have to see. Thank you again."

He left the room, leaving Pauline grinding her teeth. The rangers' sense of secrecy was the stuff of legend in Araluen, and it never ceased to drive her mad. She returned to her work, putting the strange visit out of her mind.

An hour later, there was another knock at the door. "Come in," she called, a little more sharply than she intended.

Alyss entered the office, bearing a sheath of papers. "I brought the statements on the annual submissions from Northgate. It occurred to me that they might help with the letter to Lord Orman."

"I… see," Pauline said slowly. "What made you think that?"

Alyss shrugged. "Information you do have is never as worthless as information you don't have."

Pauline frowned, very slightly. That had been one of the maxims she had drummed into Alyss during her training, and it was irritating – and suspicious – that Alyss was parroting it back at her.

"Alyss," she said deliberately, "Do you know what Will is working on?"

"No," Alyss said blithely.

"Hm."

Alyss exited the office, but this time Pauline didn't return to her work. She propped her chin on her hand and stared at the door, considering.

It was no surprise when, thirty minutes later, Will knocked on the door and entered again. "Sorry to bother you –"

"What can I help you with?"

"I was looking for some information on the legality of–"

"Shouldn't you be talking to your friend George?" Pauline asked pointedly.

Will slapped his own forehead lightly. "Of course. I completely forgot. Sorry about that."

"Will, while you're here, could you take a message to the Baron for me?" Pauline asked sweetly.

"Of course."

"Splendid." She reached under her papers and pulled out a small envelope sealed with wax. "He might have a reply for me…"

"That's alright," Will said cheerfully. "Redmont's been quite quiet lately, so I have time to spare."

"Splendid," Pauline repeated with a small smile.

* * *

Baron Arald was sequestered in his office, tackling the mountain of paperwork involved in running a fief. His guards let Will pass without question, and Arald looked up at the knock on his door.

"Lady Pauline has a message for you." Will passed him the slip of paper.

"I see." Arald cast an eye over the piece of paper and rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide a smile. "Well, I don't have a reply for her, but I think you should pass this on to Rodney. Hold on a minute." He bent over and scribbled a few lines at the bottom of the page, then resealed the envelope and passed it back to Will. "Good man."

"Of course," Will said, slightly perplexed. Running messages was what pages were for, after all, but to be fair, he was there, and it was his message… in a sense.

* * *

Sir Rodney, Redmont's battlemaster, was in the training yard, watching a new batch of recruits performing sword drills. Will, slightly hot from his journey across the castle, stood there, waiting to be noticed. The jump of surprise that Rodney gave was very gratifying.

"A message from Lady Pauline and the Baron for you," he announced, passing the slip of paper across.

"Suddenly become a courier, have you, Will?" Rodney asked, amused.

"Apparently," Will replied wryly.

Rodney read the paper, raised his eyebrows, and read it several more times. He coughed, stroked his moustache, and coughed again. "Hm… You know Will, I think this should actually go to Cranmore."

"Cranmore?" Will repeated. "As in Cranmore the healer?"

"Do we have another Cranmore? I didn't realise," Rodney said innocently.

Will frowned at him suspiciously. "Why should this go to Cranmore?"

Rodney waved a vague hand. "It's a matter that concerns his expertise more than it concerns mine. Run along with it, there's a good lad."

Will eyed him, turned, and made his way back into the castle. Had he looked back, he would have seen Rodney turning back to his recruits, his shoulders shaking in a very suspicious manner.

* * *

Cranmore took even longer to find than Rodney had. He was not in his office, nor in the infirmary; he was in the kitchen, discussing the herb garden with Master Chubb. The healer took one look at Will's sweaty, red, irritated face, and offered him a glass of cool cordial.

"You're an angel," Will said gratefully, sipping at the drink.

"It's really too hot to be running around the castle," Cranmore said sternly. "Why did you want to see me?"

"I have a message from Lady Pauline."

"For me?"

"For the Baron. He's seen it, and he said to give it to Rodney, but Rodney seems to think it should go to you."

Cranmore took the creased, sorry-looking envelope, opened it, and pulled out the letter. Thirty seconds later, he nodded solemnly and passed it to Master Chubb. Chubb took it – while landing a blow with his ladle on the head of a tardy assistant with the other hand – read it, and began to laugh.

"Will, I think you should read the letter," Cranmore said gently.

Perplexed, Will took it.

_Dear Baron Arald,_ it said in Pauline's neat handwriting. _I believe that my husband has asked Will and Alyss to check in on me repeatedly during the course of the day. If you are reading this letter, then my belief has been confirmed. I would be much obliged if you would ask Will to pass this letter onto someone else in the castle, and if they could do the same, in order to keep him out of my hair. Otherwise, I will not get any work done today. _

_Regards,_

_Lady Pauline._

Will felt his mouth drop open. "The sneaky–" he spluttered. "She – It – do you know how _hot _it is out there?"

"Yes," Cranmore said sympathetically. Will loved the man for not laughing.

Will crumple the letter with an expression of disgust. "That's it. That is the last time I spy on Halt's wife for him. I don't even want to think about what she'd do to me the second time."

"That might be wise," Cranmore agreed.


	4. Murphy's Law is ArrowProof

**Murphy's Law is Arrow-Proof**

The day of the baby shower dawned fine and clear.

Arald had offered Redmont's great hall; Will had countered with his cabin. Pauline, happy with both options, had split the baby, so to speak, and compromised with a room halfway up one of Redmont's towers: private enough to keep Halt happy, large enough to contain all of their friends, and without too many stairs to climb to reach it. She was after all almost eight months months pregnant by this point.

"Everyone is here," Alyss murmured to her. The room was full of women. The majority were Pauline's friends and colleagues among the Diplomatic Service, but Arald's wife Sandra had arrived with the other ladies of Redmont, and Jenny and Cassandra had been invited as well.

Cassandra was doing surprisingly well at keeping the focus of the party on Pauline. There had been a frisson of excitement when she had entered the room, but she had greeted everyone politely and naturally, and then immediately begun peppering Pauline with questions. Now, she stood by the window, discussing the state of Gallican politics with a group of Couriers.

Pauline smiled up at Alyss. "Good. Is the door closed?"

Alyss laughed. "I don't think even Halt is that brave."

Jenny, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

Alyss laughed again, and began describing how Halt had sent Will to keep an eye on Pauline.

"You didn't!" Jenny gasped, when Alyss told her how Pauline had moved to remedy the situation. "In that dreadful heat, too?"

Pauline smiled serenely. "It seemed the best idea. I didn't want to actually have to stab him, after all, and really, that was the second most attractive option."

"He'd probably have to let you, too," Jenny chuckled. "He can hardly disarm his mentor's pregnant wife, can he?"

"Not if he wanted to keep his internal organs internal," Alyss agreed. "Anyway, Pauline asked me to check the door because Halt has been threatening to drop by to make sure she doesn't do anything too strenuous."

"I don't think Halt is brave enough to come in," Jenny said, gesturing at the room full of chattering, laughing women.

"That's what I said," Alyss agreed. "And after last time, I think Will is too afraid to borrow a pencil from Pauline."

"It was well handled," Cassandra said admiringly. "I just know that Horace will be the same when he finds out he'll be a father."

"No, I think Horace would be quite relaxed about it," Pauline said thoughtfully. "I think he'd probably just kiss you on both cheeks and go about beaming for the next nine months. He's very good at taking things in stride." She paused and raised an eyebrow at Cassandra. "_When_ he finds out he's a father?" she repeated. "Is there something you'd like to tell us?"

"No, of course not. I just mean… one day…" Cassandra blushed. "What about Will, do you think?" she asked quickly, trying to cover her embarrassment.

"Will is probably going to react exactly like Halt," Alyss predicted gloomily. "Unless we do something very horrible to him this time around, and he learns that it's no good to smother me," she added, cheering up. "He's a fast learner, isn't he?"

Jenny smirked. "I won't tell Gilan. He'll come home one day and I'll just pass him a baby. Perhaps I'll wrap it first."

The peals of laughter made the window panes shake slightly.

After a suitable interlude, the women seated themselves for what many of them considered the most interesting part of any party. At one end of the room, a table groaned under the weight of a pile of gifts. The long interval had allowed all of the friends that Halt had made overseas to respond to the invitation. None of them had been able to make the trip, but all of them had sent gifts.

Erak's gift was opened first. Pauline peered inside the wrappings and began to laugh helplessly.

"What is it?" Cassandra asked curiously. In response, Pauline pulled out a tiny sheepskin vest, a woolly beanie with little horns sewn on, and a baby-sized axe carved from Skandian pine.

"'Dear Halt and Pauline,'" Pauline read. "'Congratulations! Your news has probably caused the rulers of five countries to have heart attacks… I know it did me! If you're going to unleash this terror on the world, the least I can do is try and get in its good books by making sure it's warm. Oberjarl Erak.'"

"These are adorable!" Cassandra exclaimed, feeling the vest. "What is the axe for, though?"

"It looks like a teething toy."

Crowley's present was next. Pauline, puzzled by how soft it was, unwrapped it quickly. A stuffed horse tumbled onto the table.

"It looks just like Abelard!" Alyss exclaimed admiringly. "This is very clever."

"That's a relief," Pauline smiled. "I'm worried I'll open one of these and find real weapons for the baby inside."

"Open this one," one of the Couriers urged, passing Pauline an ornately wrapped box.

"I know who this is from," Pauline smiled.

"Shigeru!" Cassandra declared, fingering the delicately-patterned wrapping paper.

"This note is very long," Pauline said. "In fact, it's amazingly complimentary."

"Yes, Shigeru is an amazingly polite man," Alyss agreed drily. "Let me guess: 'grace', 'fortune' and 'blessing' are all in there?"

Pauline smiled. "You missed out on 'joy.'" She opened the box and carefully extracted a very strange device. It was made of wood, ornately carved, and painted in bright and beautiful designs.

For a moment, there was silence in the room as the ladies puzzled over it.

"I think it's a crib?" Lady Sandra finally said doubtfully. "Surely that's a seat for the baby?"

"Doesn't Shigeru tell you what it is in his note?" Cassandra asked.

"No," Pauline consulted the note to be sure. "He just says that he hopes I'll like it."

"Hang on, there's some paper in here." Jenny had leaned over to check the box, and was now extracting a neat sheath of very thin paper, muttering to herself as she did about Rangers and Couriers being too clever by half. "It says it's a toy. You put the baby in the cradle, there, and then the bar comes down across the front, and the beads slide back and forth on the bar." She demonstrated what she meant. The beads were large, pierced with wide holes, and slid back and forth across the bar quite easily. "The bar at the top is to hang a curtain across, in case the baby is in the sun, or to hang…" she squinted at the note. "To hang leaves from?"

"He means these," Cassandra declared, pulling a silk-wrapped package from the cradle. Opened, the package revealed wooden leaves, carved from the type of tree they represented, with tightly-woven string going through their centres. "I suppose the baby tries to pull them down, or something."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of my child trying to pull things on top of itself," Pauline said with a slight frown.

"I suppose it's better that he get it out of his system early, then," Cassandra shrugged.

"Let's face it, Pauline," Jenny said kindly. "With Will around to set such a shining example, your baby pulling leaves on his head will be the least of your worries."

"I should probably take offence at that," Alyss mused, "Except I agree with you."

Pauline laughed and passed the crib to Jenny to place on another table.

Pauline received more clothes and toys from the castle residents. Arald's gift made her laugh again: it was a tiny green cloak, mottled in the fashion of Ranger cloaks, complete with a miniature cowl. Gilan had provided another teething toy, a carved wooden sword; Malcolm had sent a packet of herbs, all with various purposes, and a packet of home-made sweets. Included in his package was a gorgeous book of illustrated children's tales from Orman, lord of Macindaw, that Lady Sandra, who was something of an expert in the area, proclaimed to be very old and very valuable. Horace and Cassandra had, puzzlingly, presented Pauline with a lovely silver painting-frame and not much else.

"It's actually a two-part gift," Cassandra explained. "When the baby is born, Dad is going to send the Royal Artist down here to do a painting of you, Halt and the baby. That way you'll always have a reminder of when he was little."

"That's lovely," Pauline said, touched, and to everyone's surprise she kissed the Princess Royal on the cheek.

The final gift was from Sean O'Carrick, King of Clonmel. "It's quite heavy," Pauline said, lifting it with a slight amount of effort.

"Let me," Alyss said, moving forwards. "Halt will shoot me if you get hurt trying to lift a present. I think the note must be inside the parcel," she continued, unwrapping the thick canvas. "I can't see one, but…"

Alyss' voice died away as she unfolded the packet. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened.

"What is it?" Jenny asked curiously. "Alyss, what did King Sean send?"

Alyss smoothed the canvas out, allowing everyone to see. Gasps ran around the room.

On the table lay a white gown, encrusted with precious stones. Jewellery, made of gold and studded with jewels, lay on the gown in a demure pile.

"Well… there's a note," Alyss said dumbly. "'My dearest Uncle Halt, Please accept my congratulations. I was overwhelmed with joy at the news that you will soon have a child. That joy prompts me to send our family's Welcoming garments to you in the hope that they may be of use. I entrust them to your care, and beg that you bring my little cousin to meet me as soon as possible.'"

"The Welcoming is a Hibernean tradition," Pauline said in a numb voice, just as shocked as Alyss. "It's supposed to make the baby a real person in the eyes of the Hibernean gods, so to speak." She took a deep breath. "I must say, I think I preferred Jenny's present. Much less responsibility!"

Everybody laughed. Jenny had provided a tiny table, tablecloth, blunt cutlery and a plate, for the baby to play with when he was a little older.

The pace of the party began to slow down after that, and soon the women, seeing that Pauline was beginning to flag, made their excuses and vacated the room. Pauline thanked them all graciously, waited until the last of them had gone, then dropped into a chair again with a sigh of relief. "You know," she said, to Alyss, Cassandra and Jenny, "I always knew there was a good reason I didn't have children before now. They're very heavy."

Alyss and Jenny, who had planned the baby shower, were flushed with pleasure at how well it had gone. Cassandra was inspecting the presents again, flipping through the book of children's tales. Now she looked up and commented, "Your baby is well provided for, at least. It certainly shouldn't be bored!"

Pauline smiled, before a shadow crossed her face. "I must admit, I'm a little worried about Sean's gift. I might ask the Baron to put it somewhere safely for me."

"We should find Halt and show him the gifts," Alyss announced. "He might know what to do with Sean's."

"I'll go," Cassandra said obligingly, leaving the room.

"I should see to getting the food cleared away," Jenny decided. "Excuse me for a moment."

Alyss and Pauline smiled at each other. "You know," Alyss commented, "Everyone seems to think that this baby will be a boy. Nobody seems to have considered that it might be a girl."

"I have," Pauline said serenely. "It just didn't seem worthwhile mentioning to Halt."

"Yes, it might have driven him to jump off a tower," Alyss said with a laugh.

"Whatever gender, I'm sure it will be a very fat baby," Pauline said with a grimace, looking at her bulging stomach. "I think I weigh more than you and Will combined. Cranmore assures me it's completely normal, though, so…"

At that moment, one of the castle staff stuck his head in the door. "My lady Alyss?" he said. Pauline's chair was behind the door, hidden from the man's sight. "My lady, there's a messenger here for you."

"A messenger?" Alyss asked, startled. "From where?"

"He's very anxious to speak to you, milady," the man pressed. "He wouldn't answer my questions. He insisted upon seeing you personally."

Alyss rose and shot Pauline an apologetic look. "I'm sure it's nothing that important."

"Quite so, milady," the man agreed, apparently thinking she was speaking to him.

Alyss left the room with the servant. Pauline could dimly hear her steps receding down the hall, and a hum of conversation, through the thick stone.

Suddenly, she sat bolt upright. The servant had re-entered the room, closed the door behind him and made straight for the table of gifts.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Pauline thundered, rising to her feet with some effort.

The man, his hand on the Welcoming gown, spun in shock.

With a throb of fear, Pauline saw the knife in his hand. She crossed her hands over her stomach and straightened. "What," she repeated, "do you think you are doing?"


	5. When Knives Fly

**When Knives Fly**

Alyss heard the door to the tower room slam behind her, and turned to look in surprise. The next instant, her surprise had evolved to shock as the livery-clad man she had been talking to suddenly seized her arm.

Alyss turned to look at him, saw the knife he was reaching for, and reacted instantly. They had been standing on the top step of a flight of stairs, the man having refused to budge from his position. Now, she grabbed his arm with one hand and jumped forwards, throwing her entire weight with her.

The man toppled back onto the stairs, Alyss landing on his chest and crushing the breath from him. They slid down the flight of stairs, the man jerking horribly, all of Alyss' attention on keeping the knife turned away from her.

They didn't slide far, not on the curving tower stairs. Alyss reared back and slammed her fist into the man's face twice. He groaned slightly and went still. The girl scrambled to her feet, seized the man's knife and, unable to resist, kicked him in the ribs for good measure. Petty, perhaps, but still satisfying. Then she turned and sprinted back up the stairs.

The tower door wasn't locked, just closed. Alyss flung the door open and stopped dead. The servant who had summoned her was in the room, his back to the wall, holding Pauline's arm with one hand and pressing a knife to her throat with the other. Pauline met Alyss' gaze squarely, but her face was pale and her eyes were wide.

"Get out!" the man roared. "Get out, now, or she dies!"

"Put the knife down," Alyss said calmly, hiding the one she herself held behind her back. "Nobody needs to get hurt here."

"I mean it, get out!"

The sound of footsteps alerted Alyss. She cast her eyes sideways. Jenny was climbing the stairs, followed by several servants.

The man had heard the noise too. "Tell them to get back!" he screeched, sweat standing out on his brow.

"Jenny," Alyss said calmly. "Now is a very bad time. Come back later." Behind her back, she tilted the knife, making sure Jenny got a good look at it, then inclined her head forwards slightly, indicating the room. Jenny's eyes widened and she turned and fled down the stairs, shooing the servants in front of her like a sheepdog herding cattle.

"They're gone," Alyss said in the same calm, even tone, turning back to the man. "What's your name?"

"You should have gone with them," the man panted. "Leave, now!"

"I'm not leaving without Pauline, sir," Alyss informed him. "Pauline is the lady you're holding. My name is Alyss. What's yours?"

The man's eyes darted back and forth, but he couldn't seem to see any trap in the question. "Albert," he replied finally.

"Albert, my friend is quite pregnant," Alyss continued. "Could she sit down, do you think?"

"No!" Albert screeched, tightening his grip on Pauline's arm. "Where's Hobart?"

Alyss was saved from answering this tricky question by the arrival of more people. Cassandra, Halt and Horace were coming up the stairs, with the stout, puffing figure of Baron Arald behind them.

"Who's coming?" Albert demanded. "Who is that?"

"It's Pauline's husband, Albert," Alyss said, holding up her hand to tell Halt to stop. "And Baron Arald. They'd like to talk to you. Is that alright?"

"Tell the Ranger to leave his bow on the stairs." So Albert _did _know who he was holding hostage. If the higher tone in his voice was anything to go by, he also knew very well what an exceptionally bad situation he was in.

"Of course." Halt was already stripping off his quiver, but Alyss couldn't see his saxe or throwing knives anywhere. That taken care of, Halt advanced until he was standing in the doorway with Alyss.

"Pauline," he said urgently, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, dear," she replied calmly. "Did you enjoy your dinner?"

"Let my wife go," Halt ordered, ignoring Pauline's question. His hands were clenched so tightly that his fingers were bloodless.

"So you can shoot me?" Albert sneered. "Not likely."

"I have no bow," Halt gritted out.

"Halt," Alyss interrupted. "We still don't know what Albert wants. Perhaps if we did we could help him." She looked inquiringly at the man, who suddenly seemed reluctant to answer.

"He came to steal the gifts," Pauline said. "I suppose the servants were gossiping about them already?"

Albert licked his lips and didn't answer.

Baron Arald had reached the landing by this point. "I won't lie to you, son," he said grimly, "Theft is serious. But murder is more so. If you harm Lady Pauline, you'll be in a lot of trouble."

"Please, Albert," Halt interrupted, his voice low. "She's my _wife._ That's my _child_. Don't harm them. Please, don't harm them."

Alyss kept herself from frowning with an effort. Halt was clearly waiting for something. An idea caught her, and she glanced at Cassandra, and mouthed, _Will?_

Cassandra grinned slightly and made climbing gestures with her hands. Alyss grimaced despite herself. She would never love heights, but Will was almost a bird, or a squirrel, in his love for them.

If he was climbing the tower, there was no telling when he would arrive in the room. Clearly, Halt and the Baron were waiting for his signal to act.

"Albert," she said smoothly, "I think that you don't want to hurt Pauline."

"I will if I have to," Albert yelled.

"But you don't have to." Alyss held his gaze. "If you put the knife down, the Baron can go easier on you. You won't have such a strict sentence, I'm sure." She looked at the Baron for support; he nodded his head firmly.

"Quite right. I'm permitted to exercise my discretion however I see fit."

"I won't put it down! I put it down and I'm dead!"

"If you hurt my wife, you'll wish you were dead," Halt growled.

Alyss' heart leapt as she saw, behind Albert and to his left, a hand appear and latch onto the window.

"Halt," she said quickly, trying to keep Albert's attention. "This is more than just about you. Albert, I promise, if you end this now, it will reflect very well on you."

Will's head was in view now, as he pulled himself into the room.

"Son, if you put down the knife, I will dismiss all charges!" the Baron boomed. "You'll get off completely."

Albert hesitated, and began to lower the knife.

Will's thrown knife hit him in the temple. A fraction of a second later, Halt's throwing knife appeared in of one eye and his saxe knife struck Albert's wrist, causing his weapon to drop from suddenly limp fingers. At the same time, the knife Alyss had taken from Hobart buried itself up to the hilt in Albert's throat. Pauline staggered as the dead weight fell away from her.

Halt sprinted into the room and swept his much-taller wife into a hug. It was almost comical: he wanted to clutch her tightly, but her stomach was so large that he was forced into a loose embrace.

"Never do that to me again," Halt ordered, his voice shaking. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"Just a bruised arm," Pauline said, allowing herself to be steered to a chair. "I'm fine, really, Halt."

"Why didn't you have a weapon?" Halt demanded.

"Who goes armed to a baby shower?" Pauline was still shaking, but colour was returning to her face.

"A common thief," Will said in disgust, coming into the room all the way. "He almost kills two people, just for baubles."

"You call these baubles?" Alyss asked, recovering slightly and indicating the Welcoming dress. It was a good thing Will was off the window ledge, by that point; otherwise it's quite probable he would have fallen out of the room.

"I don't care if it's a solid gold Kalkara," Halt said, holding Pauline's hand tightly. "If you had been hurt, I would have dropped the damn thing in the lake myself." He brightened slightly. "One of them's unconscious, isn't he?"

"Halt! You will not drown prisoners," Arald said sternly. "Nor will you release him so that he is technically not a prisoner any longer. Understand?"

"Yes," Halt said sulkily.

"I think we can say that this gentleman is well and truly dead," Horace said, bending over Albert's body.

"Yes, kidnapping a Ranger's wife tends to have that result," Cassandra said agreeably.

"Halt, I'm fine, really," Pauline reassured him. "We both are." She smoothed over the front of her gown with trembling fingers. "Both of us are fine."

Halt took a deep breath. "Good. I'd hate to hear that eight months of complete and utter terror have gone to waste."

"Now you can look forward to a whole lifetime of it!" Will said cheerfully, trying to cheer him up. "Ow!"

It clearly hadn't worked.


	6. The Day the Earth Stood Still

**The Day the Earth Stood Still**

Will, Gilan, Alyss and Horace sat in silence in a small chamber below Cranmore's infirmary. It was a month after the attempted robbery, and they were all far more tense than they had been on that occasion.

"It's been a while," murmured Will.

"It takes a while," Alyss repeated for the fourth time that night.

Horace, who had never gotten around to leaving Redmont after the attack, looked up. "You know, I never thought Pauline would have children. I thought she was too old."

"You're the first person brave enough to say that," Will commented.

"I'm not brave enough to say it to her or Halt," Horace said reasonably. "I train as hard as I do precisely so I _don't_ die painfully."

Gilan barked out a laugh. "It seems unreal, doesn't it? After nine months…"

"I know," Will agreed. "It seems like a lifetime."

They fell back into silence. Gilan continued to pace, glancing from time to time at the door.

"It's almost midnight," he said suddenly.

"So?" Horace asked obligingly when it became clear that Will and Alyss would not do so.

"So tomorrow is the first day of summer."

"So?" Horace repeated.

"So…" Gilan shrugged. "It just seemed significant, that the child could be born on the first day of summer."

"It's a coincidence. I'm born on the last day of winter," Alyss told him, raising her head.

"That explains your colouring," Gilan told her with a smile. Alyss tossed an elegant sneer at him and put her head back on her folded arms.

The sound of footsteps approaching caused them all to tense. The noise swelled, peaked, and died away as the owner passed them. Horace blew out a deep sigh.

"I'm kind of glad Cranmore didn't let any of us in, actually," he announced. "Can you imagine Halt right now?"

"I'm trying, but the closest image I'm getting is a berserk Ragnak," Will said drily.

"Exactly."

They were interrupted at that moment by one of the servants who worked in the infirmary. The woman knocked, opened the door, and announced, "Cranmore's respects and would you like to come and see them now?"

"It's over?" Will blurted.

"About time!" Gilan was already striding towards the door, trailed closely by Alyss and Horace. Will scrambled to catch up.

The infirmary gave Will the same impression he received from the aftermath of battles: peace, but only because everybody was too tired or dead to keep fighting. Pauline was lying in bed, sitting up and clasping a bundle to her chest. Halt was talking to Cranmore and… clasping a bundle to his chest?

"There's two of them?" Will exclaimed.

"You had twins?" Gilan said at the same time.

Halt turned to look at them, and beamed. "Good to know you can both still count."

"Halt, don't tease them," Pauline chastised. "You were just as shocked."

Alyss came over and peered at Halt's little bundle. A pair of sleepy blue eyes glared back. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Halt, it looks like you. It's looking at me like you do."

"It looks a bit angry," Gilan decided, coming over to have a look too.

"Precisely."

"Well how would you feel if you just wanted to go to sleep and two giants were staring at you?" Horace asked reasonably.

"If they were as good-looking as us, I think I might enjoy it," Gilan retorted.

"What did you have?" Will demanded, ignoring them.

"Twins," Halt said annoyingly. He was giddy with relief, and that was causing him to tease Will more than he normally would.

"Halt," Pauline said warningly.

"They're fraternal," Cranmore said briskly. "One boy one girl. Two for the price of one, in fact. Bit small, but good health otherwise. Have you thought about names?"

"Of course," Pauline said, rocking her bundle as it began to make slightly fretful noises.

"Well?" Alyss asked, for once goaded beyond her sense of patience.

"This," Halt said, tilting the baby he held, "is Wren. That," he nodded at Pauline, "Is Collin."

"Wren and Collin," Alyss murmured. "What lovely names."

Halt seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before he abruptly said, "Would you like to hold her?"

Alyss was too much of a diplomat to say yes. "I'm sure I'll have lots of opportunities," she said soothingly. "You keep her for now."

"Congratulations," Horace said happily, clapping Halt carefully on the shoulder. "Now people will have to send another gift!"

"Yes, Horace, because that's the most important thing about having twins," Halt said sarcastically. Wren yawned in his arms as if in agreement.

"We were hoping to talk to you all about godparents," Pauline said from the bed. "We decided that Will and Gilan were automatically disqualified, as the nature of the Corps dictates that they'll be uncles." Will and Gilan, whose faces had fallen, perked up quite a bit at this. It was true: both children now automatically had forty-nine uncles who were completely unrelated by blood. "Alyss, I know I said you would be a godmother, but Will is an uncle, so you'll be an aunt."

Gilan blushed. "Jenny, too," he mumbled to his feet.

Horace patted Gilan's back with considerably more force than he had used on the baby-wielding Halt. "The good news keeps on coming!"

"Because that's such _surprising_ news," Alyss teased gently. It was a running joke in their circle of friends that Jenny was the only woman Gilan could stand to marry because she was the only person who could turn food into weapons.

"We were hoping you and Cassandra would be Wren's godparents," Pauline continued, looking at Horace. "And we're going to ask Arald and Sandra to be Collin's."

"Of course!" Horace exclaimed. "Cassandra will be thrilled. She's probably already asked for a little sling to be created as we speak."

"I'm a little worried at how many weapons people seem to think our children need," Pauline murmured in amusement.

"I'm more worried about what will happen when they get old enough to use them," Halt replied in the same tone.

Alyss overheard them, and laughed. "We all are, Halt. Tonight, the future trembles."


End file.
